


Of Cassette Tapes And Flying Boxes

by assumedsuicide



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Slight Wholock, Teenlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 03:18:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1114853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/assumedsuicide/pseuds/assumedsuicide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Now, John Watson, you are an enigma. You had brought some light into my sorry life, and I thank you for it. Do not follow in my footsteps, John, don’t you even dare think of doing a thing such as cowardly as I did."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Cassette Tapes And Flying Boxes

The note came to John Watson as a text. A horrible way for it to be sent.

 

          _‘There is a box in my room. Under the bed, labelled ‘JW’._

_Please pick up. Parents not home, by the time you get this text, I  will be in the_

_hospital. I altered the time so you couldn’t come running after me. This text message_

_was written fifteen minutes ago and sent now. House key under the door mat. I should be_

_dead around...-SH_

 

John closed his eyes, and waited. He knew what was coming, definately. After several seconds, his phone buzzed again, and John reopened his eyes, his mouth going dry when he saw the new text message from Sherlock. It was written approximately twenty minutes ago.

 

_Now. -SH_

 

John didn’t cry. He had always wondered why he didn’t, after all, his best friend just _committed suicide_. He hoped this was a prank. Some sick joke Sherlock was playing on him. And he knew it wasn’t, but when you lose someone you love, you would think of theories, hundreds upon hundreds of them to tell yourself, _No, they’re alive. And they will come back._

 

Which is why he didn’t know the reason why he found himself going through Sherlock’s room, later that day, clinging to his bedspread, as he searched the floor under it. There was a small rectangular box buried deep in the pile of clothing and John Watson pulled it out, knowing that he was wrong like always, all the time, and Sherlock was utterly dead, and he wouldn’t come back for even one million experiments.

 

John didn’t look at the box as he climbed down the stairs of the empty Holmes house. He imagined Sherlock’s parents by his hospital bed, staring blankly at him, hoping he would somehow come back to life, like in the old films. And then he would imagine Mycroft taking a look at his brothers’ pale face, watching the heart monitor stop, and then proceed to rush out of the room wondering why he hadn’t been a better older brother. Perhaps Mycroft would be thinking about all their arguments, and then deciding it was all his fault, he should have known, and if he was a better older brother, _Sherlock Holmes would still be breathing air_.

 

John pushed the thought from his mind. He stepped out of the house, locking the door, and placing the key under the mat. He walked home slowly, thinking of the memories they’ve had at school, going to all the ice-skating rinks during the winter seasons, all the fond memories from the past three years. And damn it all, Sherlock Holmes, you are a selfish bastard for leaving everyone like this, thinking he didn’t matter to the people who have always thought he mattered the most.

 

\--

 

John sat with the box on his bedside table. He had opened it a few minutes ago, and looked inside to see an old looking cassette tape, and a small plastic TARDIS with doors that had a lock on them. The tape had been labeled, Play This , and John Watson would. Sherlock Holmes did this to him, left him in such a cruel and unfair way, and the fact that John Watson would never again find him waiting at home, asking to come over and never again would he receive those hundreds of texts that were constantly sent to his phone, destroyed him. He always thought that Sherlock Holmes would figure out a way to love someone and use his heart for a change. Be it Mycroft, or his own parents, or Greg, or even Molly Hooper, but John stopped thinking such foolish things. Sherlock Holmes could never learn how to love. Because Sherlock Holmes too often destroyed the people who loved him. He never loved any of them, regardless. Because you don’t _destroy_ the people you love.

 

John played the tape anyway. He pushed it into a cassette player and there was a pause before Sherlock Holmes started speaking through the system.

 

“ _John Watson,_ ” it began, “ _before I start my apologies, let me just tell you that you were the greatest. You were the most brilliant person I have come across, and you somehow delayed this event from happening too soon. And I am sorry. Tell my mother and father that I am sorry, and that I love them. Tell Mycroft I love him, too, and I mean it this time. Tell him it wasn’t his fault that I chose to end my life in the most terrible way possible. In fact, tell anyone who will listen,  that I am sorry, and tell them to move on._

 

_Now, John Watson, you are an enigma. You had brought some light into my sorry life, and I thank you for it. Do not follow in my footsteps, John, don’t you even dare think of doing a thing such as cowardly as I did. Yes, I was a coward, and I was not brave, and no matter what you say, I was not smart, because if I was, I would tell you this in person:  You need to go and live your life, and you will come across moments that will both terrify you and make you laugh, but they will all pass soon enough. And John Watson, you had better learn to delete all our horrible memories, and remember the things that mattered most of all. And, please, if you can forgive me, do so, although I don’t deserve it. But, please, please, please remember me. And remember I will always be with you. In your heart, since you tend to use it more often than I.And John Watson, remember that you were the most important thing to have ever grazed my life and I am still so, so, sorry. Under the TARDIS is a key, I taped it there. Take the key and unlock the TARDIS’s doors. There’s something inside there. Be careful with it. Once you open the doors, lock them again, with the thing inside. When you’re done with the cassette tape and seen what the TARDIS has to offer, put them all back in the box, and never open them again, but please treasure them. I’ll see you after a very, very long time, and I simply cannot wait to meet you again. But please take all the time you need, because you are brilliant, and I promise that there will be great things coming. Because, never, in all my life, have I met someone as fantastic as you. With love, and as ever, Sherlock Holmes.”_

 

John didn't want to open the TARDIS at first. Mainly because he was afraid of what might be inside. It could be anything. Anything dangerous, or dreary, but then, all of a sudden, John didn't care. He didn't care in the slightest anymore, because Sherlock Holmes, his best friend, was dead and there was nothing he could do about it. And Sherlock was right. He needed to move on. He would grieve, and he would cry later on, but as of now, he would be curious. John knew, of course, curiosity would usually kill the damn cat, but if he was the cat, he, denying all what Sherlock had said, would gladly be killed if it only meant he could see Sherlock Holmes, that bloody bastard, once more. And if Doctor Who episodes didn't lie, he would have happily volunteered to travel back in time to stop Sherlock Holmes from killing himself. With this in mind, he felt the underside of the TARDIS, and taped to it, was the rather vibrant impression of a very, very small key. He ripped it off, accidentally getting some of the blue paint off with the tape. The key was cold, and it was chipping, and rusting, the pattern of blue swirls almost falling off by itself. But John attached it to the small lock, rather impatiently, the lock was, in fact, the size of his thumb, and restrained him from going any faster, but the doors clicked open. Inside was a torn up yellow post-it note, but it was quite readable. 

 

_Be good. I love you. -SH_

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, ok, this was really hard to write mainly because I just had absolutely no idea what to do with this AU but you know what? I suppose it's not TERRIBLE. A bit dusty, but not so terrible, but thank you to everyone who read it, and I hope all of you have a wonderful rest of your lives! xx


End file.
